


Inter-Faction Relations

by TerrifiedAristocrat



Series: A Ballad of Day and Night [1]
Category: AFK Arena (Video Game)
Genre: Caffeine Abuse, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Harry Is Not A Normal Cat, Hypnosis, Language of Flowers, M/M, Music Lessons, Pining, Polyamorous Character, Slow Burn, Vedan Is A Good Dad, of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-07-10 15:10:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19907773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerrifiedAristocrat/pseuds/TerrifiedAristocrat
Summary: In an attempt to push back the Hypogean threat, Angelo is requested to go to the front lines. Since the Arcanist's Union is heading in that direction anyways to assist Niru in his research, it makes sense for Angelo to ride along. This simple act of convenience sets something unprecedented into motion with unforeseen implications.





	1. I'll Go Beyond Our Fighting Boarders If You Needed That of Me

Carrion crows cried raucously as they circled Vedan’s carriage. Vedan had a sinking feeling that they recognized it as belonging to him and hung out in hopes that a corpse would be tossed out or something. Ridiculous really- Silvina only did that once.

Vedan drummed his fingers along his arm in annoyance. King Thoren had politely requested Vedan and his girls head to the frontlines- not necessarily to fight, although Vedan was sure Silvina would need something to do- in order to assist Niru in some research he was conducting on the few Hypogean corpses they had been able to scrounge up. Coincidentally, some lightbringer fool had been called to the same region and King Thoren again, politely requested Vedan give him a lift.

Not only was Vedan looking at several hours of travel time in the presence of a sniveling lightbringer, said lightbringer was late.

“Oh, he’s here,” Isabella remarked abruptly, looking up from the large book that overwhelmed her lap. Shortly after she said this, someone rapped sharply three times on the door to Vedan’s carriage. The door swung open with only a little bit of magic, revealing a man a bit shorter than Vedan with a ridiculous hat on skewed over dirty blond hair and an apologetic look on his face.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said, a melodic voice echoing in the carriage and making it feel small. He wasted no time climbing into the carriage and sitting next to Isabella with his legs folded under him pretzel style, setting a lyre in his lap and closing the door. An unnaturally fluffy white and tan cat lept into the carriage just before the door closed and Vedan scowled.

“What is that?” he hissed.

“Hm? Oh that’s Harry. Don’t worry, he’s perfectly well behaved,” the man assured Vedan, adjusting his hat and glancing up at Vedan from under blond lashes, grinning in a crooked manner that would make a lesser man than Vedan get all gooey inside. “I’m Angelo, Song of the Dawn. You must be Vedan?”

“I am,” Vedan replied primly.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard all sorts of things about you through Miss Isabella,” Angelo remarked.

“You did?” Vedan asked, doing his best to keep his voice out of that hissing tone he took when agitated. Harry was watching Vedan now, gold eyes fixed on Vedan’s own.

“Yes! Remember when you asked Auntie Shemira to find me a tutor for the violin?” Isabella piped up.

“Yes, a Mr. Gilder,” Vedan replied. Angelo waved shyly.

“I don’t go by my family name anymore,” Angelo explained with a shrug, glancing down at his lute and starting to fiddle with the tuning knobs. “Saves time. Have you been keeping up with your practice?”

“I have,” Isabella nodded eagerly. Angelo lifted his head and gave Isabella a warm smile, exuding the kind of pleasure Vedan felt when Isabella learned a new spell- only Angelo was a stranger, a lighbringer. Vedan wasn’t sure he liked it.

“Can I pet your cat?” Silvina asked.

“May you,” Vedan corrected.

“You can or you may, if Harry is okay with it,” Angelo told Silvina warmly. “Pat your leg- that lets him know you want to pay attention to him,”

“Alright...” Silvina patted her leg awkwardly and after a few minutes Harry jumped on the seat in between Vedan and Silvina, sniffing her hand delicately. The very same hands that spelled the doom for many a foolish soul soon were working their way into the thick fur behind Harry’s ears and Harry’s rumbling purrs filled the carriage, providing a soft percussion to Angelo tuning his lyre.

“C...” Angelo plucked a string an frowned, twisting a knob and strumming it a few times until the sound it made settled into Vedan’s auditory ossicle pleasantly. “There we go,” he beamed at his lyre as if it was a living thing that had pleased its master, and then started working on the next string.

“That’s D,” Isabella chimed in.

“It is, but something’s off,” Angelo replied. “Can you tell me what?”

“Hm.” Isabella’s face scrunched in a look of intense concentration. Angelo strummed the string again. “It’s too high,”

“Got it in one!” Angelo smiled again, adjusting another knob and strumming again. “There we go, much better,”

“Can you teach me how to play that?” Isabella asked.

“Sure, once you have the violin mastered,” Angelo replied easily, plucking at the rest of his strings and making some minor adjustments as he went. Soon, his hands were dancing across the strings, filling the carriage with a smooth and lilting melody that was familiar and yet not at the same time. Vedan felt as if he should have stopped Angelo on principle but he didn’t, oddly mesmerized by watching Angelo’s fingers.

Of course Vedan had heard of the Gilder family before- they were called such by how they gilded their pockets off of the various wars lighbringers engaged in. They were new money so to speak, so it made sense that their firstborn Angelo wasn’t content to lounge around composing symphonies from the comfort of a mansion. Hearing about that was one thing, but seeing it in person was another.

Angelo played a chord that made Vedan’s skin tighten and break out in gooseflesh.

“Are you alright?” Angelo stopped his playing and looked up at Vedan, worry obvious on his face. Vedan let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding as Angelo’s fingers stilled his thrumming lyre strings and felt something like an aching emptiness in his chest at the silence that filled the carriage, a living and suffocating thing.

“Of course,” Vedan muttered, folding his hands neatly in his lap and fixing Angelo with a flat stare that dared Angelo to look away. Angelo didn’t, although it wasn’t aggression that drew his eyes to Vedan’s own but something softer.

“You’re sure?” Angelo asked.

“Yes,” Vedan snapped, narrowing his eyes.

“Alright,” Angelo held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’m asking because my music is how I attack. I don’t want to accidentally hurt you,”

“As if some music could hurt me,” Vedan sniffed, jutting his chin out in a challenge. Angelo shrugged and settled back into his seat, going back to softly moving his fingers across his lyre. “Well?”

“I’m not going to prove you wrong in front of your daughters. It’s impolite,” Angelo remarked easily, pulling out a notebook and scribbling something in it. “Besides, Miss Silvina would kill me,”

“Absolutely,” Silvina remarked idly, still giving Harry scritches. Harry, seemingly oblivious to his master’s situation, purred and kneaded Silvina’s thigh. Angelo didn’t seem bothered by it, shifting his lyre aside and focusing on the notebook in his lap, completely lined with staves for music. For the next half hour Angelo was quiet, aside from the soft scratching of his pencil against his paper as he composed some kind of song in his head. His other hand lay on Angelo’s thigh, his fingers twitching as if playing some imaginary instrument as he composed. Vedan’s thoughts trailed off to the pipe organ he had in the basement of his manor, thick with dust and neglected. The last person to have used it had to have been Vedan’s... great uncle? The memory was a fuzzy one, the kind that made Vedan want to sneeze.

Lost in his memories, Vedan didn’t notice Angelo was humming at first- the melody was low and soothing to the parts of Vedan that were most definitely no longer human. The song had dust and blood, bones and grave dirt and the darkest shadows behind one’s eyelids seconds before death. As Vedan realized it was Angelo crooning out this melody he opened his eyes, not realizing that they’d been closed. Isabella was leaning against Angelo’s body, fast asleep with her book tucked loosely to her chest like a stuffed toy. Silvina was playing with Harry, using the end of her scarf as a toy to dangle in front of Harry’s nose. A strange kind of peace filled the carriage, magic humming softly in the air.

There it was, Angelo’s power. Vedan did not understand music, but he understood power. In that moment of serenity, he understood why King Thoren liked having lightbringers- at least Angelo- on his side.

The carriage stopped abruptly, as did Angelo’s song.

“We must be there,” he remarked warmly. Silvina jerked awake, blinking sleep out of her eyes. The door to the carriage opened and Angelo gestured to Vedan politely. Vedan raised an eyebrow and elegantly climbed out of his carriage. Shemira stood in front of the graveborn encampment and smiled politely at Vedan. Honestly Vedan got along with Niru better, but his girls liked Shemira, so Vedan was fine with her.

“I hope your journey was well,” she said.

“It was,” Vedan nodded. All things considered, his comment was even true. Shemira must have noticed this, since she nodded and turned her head to the carriage.

Angelo was helping Silvina down from the carriage even though Vedan knew she needed no such help- there was something charming in the way Angelo delicately held Silvina’s hand to steady her as she stepped down and out of the carriage. Isabella got the same treatment, and after Angelo picked up his own luggage from the back of the carriage. While Angelo wasn’t obviously muscled, there was still some definition on his arms, not that Vedan was looking.

“Angelo,” Shemira called out. Angelo turned and walked right up to her, no fear in his eyes.

“Miss Shemira, how are you?” He asked.

“I am well,” Shemira nodded, “although Niru has another one of his migraines,”

“He won’t take your tea?” Angelo asked, wincing. Vedan winced too- Niru’s migraines were wicked.

“No, stubborn fool,” Shemira muttered with equal parts venom and affection.

“I’ll go to him,” Angelo assured Shemira, making his way through the graveborn encampment as if he was born there. Vedan, Shemira and his girls followed him solemnly, a funeral procession in reverse. Where Vedan would have announced himself upon reaching Niru’s tent, Angelo simply slipped in silently, settling on the ground with his legs folded under him and beginning to strum his lyre. Vedan poked his head in, curiosity outweighing his self-preservation.

Niru was a great ally and a greater partner in research, but the man had a temper. Vedan didn’t need Shemira’s warning to know it, just reading the line of Niru’s shoulders as he hunched over a hastily constructed table, a pen scratching feverishly at some paper to his right. As Angelo played, the tight line of Niru’s shoulders gradually relaxed. He didn’t turn and yell or anything of the sort, simply carrying on with his work as Angelo strummed and murmured something in a tongue Vedan didn’t recognize. His singing voice was low and smooth like well-brewed coffee, lingering in Vedan’s chest pleasantly as his own personal aches (not that there were many) seemed to lift away.

As Angelo’s song came to an end, Niru turned to face the little audience he had at the entrance to his tent. At that time Silvina and Isabella had wandered in fearlessly, Isabella sitting on a stool she summoned and looking over some of Niru’s more recent journals, and Silvina crouching next to Angelo and petting Harry again.

“Angelo, hello,” Niru greeted politely.

“Hello Niru, how are you?” Angelo asked cheerily. His smile twitched as he heard someone loudly making a commotion outside, a rumbling baritone demanding ‘Where in the fresh hell is that bard?’.

“Better now. I do believe you’re needed,” Niru jerked his chin towards the door of his tent and Angelo sighed, standing and dusting himself off.

“Well then. Miss Shemira, Niru, it’s been a pleasure seeing you too. Miss Isabella, please keep up with your practice-”

“I will,” Isabella chirped. Angelo smiled fondly at her.

“Miss Silvina, nice to meet you. And you, Count Vedan,” Angelo paused, looking Vedan directly in the eyes with his own, the color of a cloudless summer day. “It’s been a pleasure,”

“Are ya done?” Morvis, that crotchety dwarf lightbringer, stood square in front of Niru’s tent with a scowl on his face. “C’mon, Hogan’s been expectin’ ya,”

“Of course,” Angelo sighed and shifted his packs, ducking out of the tent. Vedan watched the two lightbringers walk away for a moment before shaking his head and walking over to Niru’s table to investigate what Niru had found. Shemira and Silvina seemed to be exchanging meaningful looks, but Vedan didn’t have time to deal with that.

There was work to do.

* * *

“Did ya have to be eye-fuckin’ the damn vampire?” Morvis demanded as soon as he and Angelo were out of earshot of the graveborn encampments.

“I was doing no such thing!” Angelo huffed, feeling the tips of his ears heat up. Granted, Vedan was a handsome fellow, but Angelo had class and Vedan seemed to dislike him. “I’m just... working to improve inter-faction relations!”

“Right. That’s what the kids are calling it these days,” Morvis rolled his eye and shook his head.

“Don’t be so insular,” Angelo whined, rubbing a thumb across the C string of his lyre.

“Don’t use such fancy words,” Morvis retorted with absolutely no heat. After their initial awkwardness, Morvis seemed to have decided Angelo needed someone to keep an eye on him, and that was what Morvis did. Angelo didn’t feel he needed an escort back to the lightbringer encampment (it wasn’t that far from the graveborn camp) and yet there Morvis was, making a big stink about everything. Angelo knew he’d just arrived, but he felt tired already.

“You said Hogan wanted to see me?” Angelo asked.

“Mm, he did,” Morvis nodded. “You best unpack though. We’ve got a spare tent set up for ya,”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Angelo smiled faintly, shifting his pack on his shoulders. He was so glad he rode a carriage to get to the frontlines instead of riding a horse or something. Nothing against horses, Angelo just didn’t do too well on them.

Thankfully, Morvis led Angelo to an empty tent and let Angelo unpack. There wasn’t much to unpack of course- a bedroll, Angelo’s violin case, spare clothing, cleaning supplies, staff paper and pens. He already had the beginning snatches of a song started from the carriage ride there, but another song jangled in the back of Angelo’s brain.

“Knock knock,” a deep voice called from outside Angelo’s tent. Angelo had to smile a little.

“Come in,” he sang, watching Hogan duck into his tent.

“I see you survived the graveborn,” Hogan remarked.

“Of course,” Angelo nodded. “Count Vedan and his girls were quite hospitable,”

“That Vedan guy, he’s an odd one,” Hogan said, rubbing his nose. “I mean, with all the rumors about him and his girls...”

“Rumors?” Angelo paused, frowning. Hogan looked a little uncomfortable- he wasn’t much of a gossip, Angelo knew.

“Oh you know. That he only adopted them so they could kill for him, that he’s using them. You know. For stuff,” Hogan explained without really explaining, quite a feat. Angelo narrowed his eyes and frowned.

“I’ve spent some time in an enclosed space with Count Vedan and can assure you, he doesn’t need those girls to kill someone. He’ll just do it himself,” Angelo explained flatly.

“Well-”

“Also, I’ve been tutoring Miss Isabella for about a month now. There’s nothing untoward going on,” Angelo cut Hogan off. Hogan knew that, and Angelo couldn’t help but feel a little hurt that Hogan thought something bad was happening and that Angelo wouldn’t do anything about it.

“How do you know, though?” Hogan pressed.

“I can... I just know,” Angelo sighed, shaking his head. Explaining it was odd- different people gave off different melodies so to speak, and Isabella’s always sounded safe and happy when she talked about her home life. She exuded love and affection for Vedan an Silvina, and even Shemira (whom she called Auntie) and that Ferael guy who sometimes stayed in their basement apparently.

“Is it the weird hearing thing you do?” Hogan asked.

“It is,” Angelo replied, not wanting to explain further. The janglings of a melody were growing louder against Angelo’s tympanic membrane and his fingers itched to write it down. Hogan sighed.

“You have that look on your face again, so I’ll let you be. The lightbringer forces will move in at dawn, after the graveborn push,” Hogan explained.

“When do they start?” Angelo asked.

“Dusk,” Hogan replied, frowning. “Why do you ask?”

“I think I have something for them,” Angelo remarked, pulling out his staff paper and tapping a pen against it to a particular beat, swaying with syncopation.

“If you’re to go out and assist them, talk to Grezhul first. I want you well guarded,” Hogan ordered sternly.

“Of course,” Angelo nodded. He did still have some sense of self-preservation.

“I’ll leave you to your composing then,” Hogan paused, and gave Angelo a proper and authentic smile. “It’s nice to have you here. Hopefully with your help we can push them back,”

“We will,” Angelo assured Hogan. The soldier nodded, and ducked out of Angelo’s tent. Now that Angelo was sure he was going to be left alone, he stretched back on his bedroll and cracked his back, groaning. Harry jumped on his chest and stretched out as well.

“Harry, I can’t compose with you on my chest,” Angelo remarked after a few minutes.

 _“Your point being?”_ Harry replied lazily, licking a paw.

“You’re going to have to get off,” Angelo reached up and scratched Harry behind his ears. Harry purred, rubbing his head into Angelo’s hand.

 _“The one who smells like steel gave good scritches,”_ Harry remarked.

“You sure did seem to be enjoying yourself,” Angelo smirked.

 _“None of that tone young man. Just you wait until someone gives you scritches like that,”_ Harry huffed, jumping off of Angelo’s chest and flicking his tail, pretending to be offended. Angelo sat up and rolled his eyes, grabbing his staff paper and starting to write notes down.

The song in the back of his head was one for graveborn, but at the end of it Angelo knew it was a song for Vedan. He had to ignore that fact and pretend it was a general song- he didn’t generally write songs specifically for anyone. There was something about being trapped in a small space with an entity who could very easily kill him that was, well... Angelo wondered if what he felt was what Hogan felt when he was on the battlefield, what Brutus talked about when he waxed poetic about a worthy opponent as he licked near-lethal wounds around the evening campfire. There was an electric excitement to the knowledge that he could have died many times over on the trip to the battlefield. Angelo scrunched his nose as he wrote, letting his hands wander across the paper and tapping the same swaying beat as he had earlier.

This song needed violin.


	2. Well I Would Bring Your Morning Coffee, Then I'd Wrap You Up In Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angelo gives a concert that has some unusual repercussions. Niru tries to help. Shemira also tries to help, and is decidedly more helpful than Niru. Vedan makes a decision.

Most Lightbringers had a hard time talking to graveborn. Angelo had seen the hardiest warrior turn pale under the scrutiny of a graveborn like a rabbit under the gaze of a hunting dog. Perhaps it was a reminder that death wasn’t always peaceful. Perhaps it was the knowledge that many graveborn craved human essence to live- flesh, fear, blood.

It wasn’t that Angelo was immune to this, he just didn’t care. When Shemira asked him to tutor Isabella he was anxious, sure, but she had every right to blossom and grow in music as a lightbringer child, or a Mauler, or a wilder. Wilders had their own music, the kind of thing that leaned towards woodwinds. Mauler music was brassy and loud, about power and strength, talent and prowess.

Graveborn were violins and violas, deep and reverberating chelos and quick, mournful fiddles. Up to this point Angelo hadn’t assisted graveborn forces in battle but thanked Dura that she nudged him to bring his violin. Since the lightbringer forces were riding at dawn, Angelo had his lyre strapped to his side and his violin propped on one shoulder, Harry nesting in the violin case at Angelos feet.

“You brought your cat?” Niru asked archly, standing next to Angelo as he warmed up.

“It’s not as much that I brought him, he brought himself,” Angelo explained.

“The battlefield is no place for a cat,” Niru pointed out. Angelo shrugged.

“Harry knows how to stay out of the way,” he assured Niru. “So... shouldn’t you be more... out there?” Angelo gestured closer to the front lines with his bow.

“I’m more useful back here than up there,” Niru replied. “Besides, someone has to keep you from dying. As fun as it would be to animate your corpse, I feel your Lightbringer associates would disapprove,” Angelo shuddered at the insinuation and nodded. He also did not want to be turned into a lich, or...whatever the hell Niru was.

Shaking his head to clear it, Angelo straightened his spine and lifted his bow, drawing it across the strings of his violin and feeling the instrument spring to life. Angelo let his eyelids slide closed, trusting in Niru to keep him alive, and listened.

He could hear the Hypogeans approaching- they had a discordant sound to them, like too many people trying to play too much at once punctuated by someone throwing dishes off of a balcony. When playing for Lightbringers, Angelo sought to boost their sound and light to drown out the noise. Playing for the Graveborn, Angelo didn’t just boost- he harmonized. Each note that poured from Angelo’s fingers blended with the music his Graveborn allies made, sinking in like a candy melting on Angelo’s tongue.

Angelo could hear Niru’s soul song increase in pitch, which made him open his eyes in time to see Niru’s huge scythe swing in front of him, cutting down a Hypogean who got a bit too close. Angelo’s hands kept playing, since he was used to such close calls, but the fact that the sound of Niru’s soul barely increased was a little fascinating. As he watched Niru work, Angelo spotted Vedan cutting down some other Hypogeans just in front of him with the same smoothness as a bird gliding through the air.

  
Angelo’s song paused for just a moment as he drank in the sight of Vedan fighting- it was more like he was dancing, the silver of the moon reflecting off his blade and hair. The key of Angelo’s music shifted, his tempo seeding up to match Vedan’s movements. From then, the song swelled in Angelo’s bones and surged down his hands, dancing along his nerves. Angelo sang, his mouth and lips forming words that weren’t quite words, sounds that invoked the moon spilling over crimson blood, rich and full of worship. His skin crawled pleasantly as he realized there was definitely something else there, a low thrumming baseline to the songs of each graveborn down to the drone-like foot soldiers Grezhul raised to help his war efforts.

“Careful,” Niru whispered, softer than a secret, softer than a scalpel slipping through Angelo’s ribcage. “Most necromancers die because they invoke something they do not understand,”

Angelo’s song stopped, falling out of the air with an almost audible clatter.

“Angelo what the hell!” Harry yowled.

“I didn’t say stop,” Niru pointed out. “You have a job to do,”

“Of course,” Angelo lifted his bow and continued where he’d left off, an ode to silver blades slicing through flesh and the inevitability of death. He could taste that same recurring baseline as before, but Harry’s rumbling at his feet urged him not to dip into it and channel it. Angelo kept his mouth shut, breathing slowly through his nose as he played.

Vedan’s quarries pushed him back closer to Angelo a few times, which was nice to see. His eyes were focused, glowing green blurs in the dim light. Angelo felt his stomach tighten watching it. His fingers danced in a quiet little ode to Vedan and Angelo’s lips curled into a smile as he saw Vedan’s personal tempo speed up to match the one Angelo was playing. He wove in chords of Niru too, as the two of them were working together to fight in front of him- Vedan’s was short, quick notes while Niru’s were smooth, sweeping slurs. Angelo let the music carry him, not paying attention to the passing of time. His only focus became the Graveborn fighting around him (specifically the two in front of him) and his fingers on his violin. If Harry yowled at him to stop and take a break, Angelo didn’t listen until dawn began to break over the horizon, until he could feel the Graveborn around him start to shy away from the sun threatening to break through the night. Angelo slowly set his violin down, exhaustion and stiffness hitting him like waves pummeling the shore. His vision swam, and Angelo’s legs gave out under him.

“Idiot,” Harry grumbled, walking over to him and licking his forehead. “I can’t take you anywhere,”

“I did good though, huh?” Angelo asked weakly.

“Of course you did. Except for the part where you communicated with Queadam, don’t do that.” Harry suggested.

“Who?” Angelo squinted.

“Are you talking to your cat?” Vedan asked, crouching over Angelo with clinical interest in his voice.

“Yep,” Angelo’s eyes fell to a cluster of flowers nearby his head- blue violets, rather pretty things. He plucked one from the bunch and sat up very suddenly, invading Vedan’s space with a hazy look of mischievousness as he tucked the flower behind Vedan’s ear. “If you had a cat you’d understand,”

Vedan froze in place when Angelo closed his eyes to rest them for a moment. When he opened them, Vedan was gone. Angelo sighed softly, he’d hoped Vedan would have stuck around for a moment or two. The look on his face was really lovely. Angelo closed his eyes again, until he felt the thunder of the Lightbearer forces approach. When he opened them, Niru stood in front of him, holding a mug of something steaming.

“Drink this,” Niru said. Angelo straightened and winced as his back cracked, reaching out for the mug and glancing inside it. The mug contained a black sludge that smelled like it was probably coffee at some point. “It’s my special brew. A thank you, for your performance,”

“You’re welcome?” Angelo asked, taking a sip. The stuff had the consistency of mud and was probably the most bitter stuff Angelo had to force down. Still, he was polite, and gagged the whole mug down. Niru took the empty mug from Angelo as he stood.

By the time Angelo was upright, the drink hit him. Satisfied, Niru nodded and wandered back to the Graveborn camp. Angelo didn’t remember putting his violin away, but he must have since the next thing Angelo knew he was standing in front of Hogan and Lucius with his lyre in his hand, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Are you feeling up to helping us this morning-”

“AbsolutelyIhaveatleastthreedifferentsongsIcanplayallatonce,” Angelo explained.

“Um?” Lucius frowned, tipping his head. “Angelo, are you well?”

“Greatneverbetter!” Angelo assured Lucius. “Readytopartylet’sdothis!”

For some reason, Hogan and Lucius seemed concerned. Angelo didn’t quite understand it, other than the fact that he felt like he was perceiving time at five times the normal rate he did.

Those Hypogeans wouldn’t know what hit them.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

“Are you feeling better now that you’ve had your coffee?” Shemira asked Niru as he slunk back to his tent.

“Oh, that wasn’t for me,” Niru shook his head. “That was for Angelo,”

“Ah yes, how was he?” Shemira wondered, leaning against Niru’s desk. Niru laughed, slumping in his chair and rubbing his temple.

“You’re interested?” he asked.

“Naturally. He and Vedan-”

“Don’t even get me started,” Niru groaned. “He was practically serenading Vedan,”

“...Really?” Shemira leaned in, clasping her hands together with a truly wicked grin on her face. “Oh goodness, Isabella and I were concerned we’d have to nudge them some more. Good to know some men have initiative-”

“He may have been serenading me too, it’s hard to tell,” Niru pointed out. Shemira giggled.

“Good, the more the merrier. You could use a distraction,” she pointed out. Niru groaned.

“I don’t need-”

“You do. You’re tense all the time. Yesterday was what, the third migraine in four days?” Shemira paused, sensing the stubborn look on Niru’s face and shook her head. “Anyways. Tell me about Angelo serenading Vedan,”

“He put a flower in Vedan’s hair,” Niru cracked a weak smile. “As he played, I think he reached out to our Lord of Fear,”

“Really?” Shemira tipped her head to the side.

“I put a stop to it,” Niru folded his hands under his chin, contemplating.

“Why?” Shemira asked.

“You know our Lord, he’d pluck that bard’s tongue out. He sure likes ardent worship, doesn’t he?” Niru mused.

“You’re not answering the question,” Shemira frowned. Niru sighed.

“That cat of his,” he said quietly. “It’s not of this world, not of this plane. I’d compare him to a Celestial, but that’s not right either. I do not know what he is, and that concerns me,”

“The cat?” Shemira leaned in.

“Harry. He got very agitated as Angelo began calling out to Lord Quaedam, yelling at him to stop. He began glowing. It was hard to look at him, my mind kept wanting to look away.” Niru rubbed the bridge of his nose as he recalled the incident. “Angelo didn’t seem to hear Harry, which was strange since they seem to have some kind of connection. He heard me, though,”

“Well that certainly is interesting,” Shemira hummed, a smile gracing her lips again. “You should get some rest,”

“Of course,” Niru waved Shemira off, picking up a pen to make notes of his observations. He saw Shemira put her headdress on and paused. “Where are you going?”

“Oh, out,” Shemira shrugged.

“What are you plotting?” Niru asked tiredly.

“Oh nothing important. Just... improving inter-faction relations, that’s all,” Shemira called over her shoulder sweetly, walking out.

Some days it was better to let Shemira do her own thing. Niru leaned back in his chair, letting sleep overtake him.

\-------

“Auntie Shemira, I’m glad you’re here,” Isabella walked up to Shemira very politely and hugged her. Shemira hugged Isabella back with the same warmth as she would Daimon, and gave Silvina a good hug too. Silvina did better with Niru than she did with Shemira, but she still loved to develop bonds with the two girls. Call it the mother in her- if she saw young ones, Shemira was going to adopt them. As she tried to tell Niru time and time again, her heart was big enough to share her love. “Papa’s in a state,”

“I may have heard something of the sort,” Shemira chuckled softly. “Let me see him,”

Isabella and Silvina solemnly led Shemira to their papa’s tent, where he paced. Vedan froze as Shemira stepped in, and Shemira could tell by the high pitched chittering that Vedan had summoned his colony of bats to surround him.

“Hello Vedan, how are you?” Shemira greeted, holding out a hand for one of his bats to land in.

“I am...” Vedan trailed off, sighing. “I am well,”

“You summoned your colony of bats,” Shemira noted. “For battle, then?”

“No,” Vedan sounded aghast, offended even. That was a fair reaction, as the bats weren’t enchanted- just ordinary bats.

“Bats give good hugs,” Silvina pointed out.

“I don’t need a hug,” Vedan snapped.

“Vedan,” Shemira warned, her voice even. Vedan exhaled slowly through his nose.

“I apologize,” he murmured to Silvina softly. “You did not deserve to be snapped at,”

Shemira could practically hear Silvina shrug in response and smiled a little.

“She is right, you do need a hug. Even I can tell,” Shemira gestured to her eyes. “Now, Vedan, tell me about it,”

“Do I have to?” Vedan asked petulantly.

“I will annoy you until you do,” Shemira replied smugly. “You are stubborn yes, but my tenacity is greater than your stubbornness. So how about we bypass the part where you pretend you don’t know what I'm talking about and start telling me about you and Angelo,”

Vedan was quiet for a moment. Shemira waited. Patience was essential to motherhood, as well as many other equally important roles in ones life.

“He serenaded me,” Vedan admitted finally.

“Oh?” Shemira asked.

“When he first started playing, it was a general sort of song,” Vedan began, “but then as the night progressed it felt a lot more... personal. More intense. If there were words, I’d accuse him of writing me poetry,”

“Isn’t music its own kind of poetry?” Shemira asked.

“Don’t make this harder,” Vedan grumbled.

“Papa, you didn’t mention the flower-”

“Angelo was exhausted and delirious, obviously. He almost passed out before he did that,” Vedan dismissed Isabella in a softer tone than he dismissed Silvina, which was better.

“Angelo gave Papa a flower.” Isabella whispered conspiratorially to Shemira. “Tucked it behind his ear,”

“Oh my,” Shemira clapped a hand over her mouth, doing a good job at pretending she hadn’t already heard this information. “What kind?”

“A violet,” Vedan piped in, sounding stressed. “Is he courting me, or just being an idiot?”

“Courting?” Shemira tapped her chin, thinking the problem over.

“My mother wrote Father poetry,” Vedan explained, his voice softer than it was before. Shemira could practically taste the pain in his voice- he didn’t like talking about his family. She understood the feeling. “And Father gave Mother flowers. Those are things one does when courting,”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Shemira asked. Vedan scoffed.

“No. What if he isn’t? What if I’m misunderstanding?” he asked.

“You won’t know unless you ask,” Shemira pointed out.

“And make a fool of myself?” Vedan hissed.

“Spare me a noble’s pride Vedan,” Shemira would have rolled her eyes if she could. “Do you want him to court you?”

“I....” Vedan trailed off. “I don’t know,”

“Then when you decide, confront him. Either tell him to be explicit in his intentions, or tell him his actions were inappropriate. Only you can decide that, but do something instead of brooding over it. There are enough brooding men in my life, I don’t need another,” Shemira sighed and straightened, letting the bat who had settled in her hand go join her colonymates. “Now that you’ve been taken care of, I’m going to bed,”

Her duties complete, Shemira walked back to her tent and slept, content in a job well done.

Whether it was through Niru or Vedan, her Lord Quaedam would have himself a bard.

Perhaps sooner, considering Niru gave Angelo a mug of his coffee blend.

\-------  
Two days after the Violet Incident, Vedan found himself in the Lightbringer camp, lead by a tired-looking Fawkes.

“He hasn’t stopped,” Fawkes explained without explaining.

“What do you expect me to do about it?” Vedan demanded, more than slightly cranky at being out of his tent while the sun was still up. The umbrella he brought with him only did so much.

“Convince him to go to sleep,” Fawkes replied in a tone that indicated he thought that was obvious.

“Why me?” Vedan hissed as they approached Angelo, sitting on the edge of a cliff, lined papers covered in layers of musical notations stuffed ungracefully under his violin case. Blood hung in the air, buttery and inviting-

(“Do you want him to court you?” Shemira had asked, as if she didn’t see the way Angelo looked at him so hazily, as if she didn’t feel how warm and hot his hand felt as it tucked that cursed violet behind his ear, as if she didn’t know how delicious he smelled-)

-and Vedan saw that Angelo’s fingers were worn raw and bloody, his limbs were shaking, his eyes glassy as he kicked his legs off the edge of the cliff. The fall down wouldn’t be fatal, but it wouldn’t be pleasant either. Henry paced behind Angelo, glancing up at Vedan and chirping a demanding meow.

“He won’t listen to anyone else,” Fawkes explained blandly.

“How do you know this?” Vedan asked, stalling.

“Harry told me,” Fawkes replied.

“The cat?” Vedan scowled. “Don’t-”

“Believe me or not, I don’t care. I brought you the vampire. He’s being obnoxious,” Fawkes directed the last two statements to Harry before turning to leave. “If Angelo dies, I’ll turn you into a pincushion,”

Vedan huffed and shifted his umbrella, staring at the bard sitting perilously close to the edge of both the cliff and his own mind. Blue violets dotted the field around them. Vedan sat down next to Angelo delicately, tapping Angelo on his arm. Angelo turned sluggishly, his eyes widening.

“Vedan,” he said, his low voice rumbling through the air. “It’s daylight, what are you doing?”

Vedan looked at Angelo’s face seriously, noting the bruising under his eyes, the ashy state of his skin, the disheveled locks hanging limply on either side of Angelo’s face. He still looked stunning, which was rather odd, but he needed rest.

“You need to sleep,” he said.

“Can’t. Dunno what Niru gave me-”

“Graveborn coffee is a bit stronger than normal coffee. It’s said to be able to raise the dead,” Vedan remarked. “Niru probably forgot to dilute it. He was... distracted,”

“Can’t sleep,” Angelo repeated. “Brain’s working too fast,”

“I’ll help you,” Vedan offered without thinking. “Or you’ll die. Humans need to sleep regularly. Even Graveborn need to sleep regularly,”

“Can you?” Angelo asked after a beat.

“I wouldn’t offer if I couldn’t,” Vedan pointed out. Angelo laughed, something hollow and wrong-sounding.

“I wrote you a song,” Angelo changed the subject. Vedan swallowed harshly. Now was as good a time as any. Better to get it out before he pulled Angelo’s mind apart.

“What are your intentions with me, Angelo, Song of Dawn?” Vedan asked.

“Intentions?” Angelo slurred the word a little, blinking at him. “Oh. Yeah, you’re really handsome and watching you fight was inspiring. Beautiful. I have more words but I think my brain is made of rice pudding right now-”

“I accept.” Vedan cut Angelo off, his undead heart pounding in his chest and moving his tongue before his brain could catch up.

“Accept what?” Angelo frowned.

“You. Your intentions, your songs. Your flowers. I am receptive,” Vedan clarified, coughing and adjusting his collar. “Let’s get you to bed,”

“You have to tell me that again when I’m better,” Angelo pouted.

“I will,” Vedan assured him.

“Promise?” Angelo pressed.

“I promise,” Vedan promised. Angelo held out his pinky.

“Swear it.” Angelo demanded. Vedan stared at the outstretched pinky and, wanting to get this over with, hooked his own pinky with it. “Good. If you break your promise, I’ll break your pinky,”

“Lightbringers are really weird,” Vedan shook his head.

“Graveborn are weird,” Angelo countered. “Didn’t you say you were going to help me sleep?”

“I did,” Vedan rested his umbrella in his shoulder, glad that they’d stalled enough for the sun to be setting behind the clouds. He reached out and took Angelo’s face into his hands, savoring how deliciously warm it felt in his palms for a moment. Once that was noted, Vedan lifted Angelo’s face to meet his eyes, feeling no physical or mental resistance as his power poured across Angelo’s skin. Vedan cocooned Angelo in a cool blanket of his power, urging Angelo to give in to what his mind wanted, what his body needed. All it took was a touch, feather-light in its intensity, and Angelo slumped over into Vedan’s arms, knocking his umbrella over.

Vedan stayed there for several minutes, a scorchingly warm Lightbringer in his lap and arms, enjoying the moonrise as Harry curled up next to him and purred loudly.

Most Lightbringers had a hard time talking to Graveborn, fear clouding their minds. As Vedan ran a hand down Angelo’s back lazily in contemplation, he realized that not once was Angelo afraid of him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Angelo's speech when he's in The Fast Zone is this  
> "Absolutely! I have at least three different songs I can play all at once!  
> Great! Never better!  
> [I'm] Ready to party! Let's do this!"  
> 2) Blue violets represent "Love", "Faithfulness," "Watchfulness" and "Enchantment" in the language of flowers  
> 3) Drink Caffinated beverages responsibly, friends  
> 4) While this is the end of this particular story, there will be sequels.  
> 5) I really like Queadam ok


End file.
